The Common Cold
by HaliaeetusLeucocephalus
Summary: This is another short story about Bahorel and Feuilly. (modern AU) xx


**This is a short story for my best friend, MalllladeImaginaire, to cheer her up because she has a cold. Hope you enjoy it. xx  
**

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"Good morning!"

Feuilly groaned and rolled over burying his head in his pillow and wishing the cheery voice would just shut up and go away. He had no idea what time it was but it definitely felt far too early to get up. It was one of the very rare occasions when he had a day off and he planned to stay in bed for as long as possible and catch up on some sleep. Closing his eyes firmly Feuilly pulled up the blanket and tried to get back to sleep.

"Well, it's not really morning. It's already afternoon but never mind," the voice continued happily seemingly oblivious to his bad mood. "Are you going to get up today or not? I knew you were tired and needed sleep so I thought it was important to leave you alone till you woke up. Then I got bored. Sorry about that." The annoying voice didn't sound very sorry at all. In fact it sounded rather pleased with itself for some reason.

Opening one eye Feuilly could just make out Bahorel sprawled on the bed beside him flicking through a book with a mischievous grin on his face. There was a tray on his lap with what seemed to be two mugs of tea on it and a plate of something that smelt delicious. Unable to resist the tempting food Feuilly sat up. "What time is it?", he demanded grumpily.

"Oh, about two o'clock." Bahorel shrugged causally and nibbled at something from the plate on his lap. "I thought you might want something to eat." He held the tray out to Feuilly. On it were two steaming mugs of tea and a large stack of warm chocolate chip biscuits. "I made them myself," Bahorel announced sounding very pleased with himself.

Just a Feuilly was about to help himself to a cookie he doubled over coughing violently. Now he was properly awake he felt absolutely terrible, his nose was running, his eyes were watering, his head was pounding, his throat hurt and the coughing was only making him feel worse. "Don't feel good," he croaked once he could breathe properly again, "I think I've got a cold."

"Oh." Bahorel's face fell and he put the tray down on the bedside table. "I shouldn't have woken you up then." Getting off the bed he disappeared for a minute and then came back carrying a stack of tissues, a fleece blanket and a warm, woolly jumper. "Here, put this on and then sip your tea." He tossed the jumper to Feuilly, tucked the blanket over his feet and put the tissues down beside him.

Feuilly did as he was told and pulled the jumper over his head. It was Bahorel's so it was far too big and he had to roll the sleeves back several times but he had to admit that it was very nice and warm. "Thank you," he whispered and then immediately started coughing again. Once he had finished he straightened up and lent against the headboard feeling miserable. "Sorry, I'm not exactly great company at the moment." He shrugged apologetically and took the warm drink Bahorel offered him.

"Doesn't matter," the law student said cheerfully and flopped down on the bed beside him, "I borrowed some books off Combeferre for you to read as it was your day off but I'm not sure if you'll want to read now." Doubtfully he handed over a pile of books. "He said they were very interesting and that you might like them."

There were books about all kinds of different subjects, history, biology, geography, politics and many more, but Feuilly couldn't actually bring himself to read any of them. Normally he would have been thrilled and would have spent the whole day studying them but today his head hurt to much and he kept having to dive for a tissue every five seconds. "Thanks," he muttered feeling a tiny bit guilty, "but I'm not sure I feel up to reading right now."

"That's ok." Bahorel shrugged, not bothered at all and dumped the books on the floor. "Have a cookie." He stuffed one into Feuilly's hand and grinned at him. "It's ok there edible. I promise they won't give you food poisoning."

Taking a bite of the biscuit Feuilly had to admit they were better than edible, they actually tasted amazing. He wondered why Bahorel had never mentioned anything about being able to bake before. "This is really good." His voice was muffled by a mouthful of cookie but from the grin on Bahorel's face he guessed that he'd got the message. "Why have you never..." He broke off to grab a tissue and blow his nose. This was just so annoying, he hated being ill. He tried again: "Why have you never made these before?"

"Couldn't be bothered." Taking a slurp of his drink Bahorel lent back against the pillows and closed his eyes. For a while the two of them lay next to each other in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. "Do you need anything else?", the law student asked just as Feuilly was starting to drift off to sleep again.

With difficulty Feuilly opened his eyes again. "Another warm drink would be nice. My throat is killing me. But I can get it myself." He went to get out of bed but Bahorel pushed him back down again.

"You're ill. You have to stay in bed and get better." He sounded like he was really enjoying telling Feuilly what to do. Rolling out of bed he padded out of the room and could be heard crashing and banging round the kitchen, humming tunelessly to himself. "There's some soup here if you'd like some," his voice suddenly yelled, making Feuilly jump, "Soup is supposed to be good for you, you know, when you have a cold. It's tomato and I know you're not that keen on tomato, but I'm sure you'll manage."

After a few unsuccessful attempts Feuilly managed to raise his voice so that Bahorel could actually hear him: "Tomato is fine, thanks." Sneakily he got out of bed, wrapped the fleece blanket around himself and made his way quietly over to the kitchen. Leaning in the doorway he watched as Bahorel heated up the soup, still humming to himself. "That smells really good," he commented after a while.

"You were supposed to stay in bed," the law student scolded in a mock-angry voice and aimed a playful punch at Feuilly. "How are you ever going to get better if you don't rest."

Shaking his head Feuilly sank onto a kitchen chair and rested his pounding head on the table. "I have been resting. I've been in bed all day." He really did appreciate Bahorel looking after him but he had never liked being forced to stay in bed for too long. He preferred to just get up and try and get on with things. Not always the best attitude as he then sometimes actually felt worse, but better than being stuck in bed all day.

Admitting defeat Bahorel put a large bowl of hot tomato soup in front of him and help himself to some as well. They ate in silence as Feuilly was finding it rather hard to swallow, let alone talk as well, but neither of them minded much.

When they had finished Feuilly let himself be dragged back into the bedroom and tucked back into bed. He did actually feel horribly tired and he was sure if he just closed his stinging eyes for a few minutes they would feel loads better.

Sliding under the duvet next to him Bahorel wrapped his arms around Feuilly and gently kissed the top of his head. "Good night and get well soon," he whispered but Feuilly was already fast asleep so didn't hear him.


End file.
